Of Lone Wolves (and eight-legged horses)
by Space-Gandalf97
Summary: A beat-up Norse God shows up at Stark Tower a year after 'The Avengers' Or how Tony finds he has more in common with Loki than he thought. Frostiron (because Frostiron is AWESOME) Will contain Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, and predictable horse jokes. Looking for someone to make this a collaboration! PM me if interested :)
1. Chapter 1

The glass clinked as Tony dropped it onto the table, empty. The lab was silent, save for a few mechanical whirrs and the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the desk.

Dum-E was in the corner, cleaning up a smoky black imprint from a previous experiment. Pieces of machinery, cups of coffee and empty bottles of alcohol lay in heaps here and there around the lab.

Tony looked around at the various screens surrounding his desk, stretching his back with a groan. He'd been tinkering around for weeks now, making a few progresses in different fields, but nothing he felt especially smug about.

That just wouldn't do.

He needed something to distract him, something that'd break the monotony and give him back the inspiration he lacked at the moment.

Too bad villains had decided to go on a sabbatical getaway; neither Iron Man -nor any other Avengers for that matter- had needed to suit up in recent weeks. It was all getting very dull.

Talking about the other Avengers, he still saw them fairly often. Once in a while Cap, Clint or Natasha would pop in at between two missions, or Bruce would come by for a sciency visit. The only one he hadn't seen in months was Thor, since to everyone's knowledge he was still in Asgard. Not like they had a direct line of contact with the gods. Tony would have to work on that at some point.

He got lost in thoughts of deep space and distant stars, taking a deep breath when they reached a less agreeable point. He shook his head to dispel images of exploding ships and darkness closing in around him.

His visit to a different galaxy had left its mark. The nightmares he still had wouldn't let him forget that dead silence, and the sudden lack of _anything_ to ground him. It was the feeling of hopelessness, of innate fear that wouldn't disappear, try as he might.

Sadly, alcohol wasn't an answer to all problems. Coffee and work only made him delay the inevitable, making it sometimes increasingly daunting as Tony felt himself reaching his limit of wakefulness, dreading the inevitable.

Tony took a deep breath, and closed his hand absently around a half-empty glass, as if greeting an old friend.

"Sir, I must inform you that my sensors are detecting some readings on the roof that are…most irregular."

Tony frowned, glass almost at his lips. "What kind of 'irregular'?"

"They resemble in several aspects those of the Chitauri portal. But some of the wavelengths are radically different from previous observations."

Tony hummed noncommittally, figuring he didn't have anything better to do anyway.

"Stay here, I'll go check it out."

"Very funny, Sir. Might I suggest you put on a suit?"

Tony looked down at his jeans and three-days black tank top.

"I didn't know this was formal wear." He said, leaving the lab with a (_forced_) spring in his step, stopping to grab the bracelets as he went.

He was careless, but not suicidal. The world needed him too much for that.

Tony realized as soon as he had stepped out of the elevator that a suit would definitely be a good idea.

"JARVIS, what's the minimum ETA for Mark 8?"

"Sir, the assembly time is now approximately 7 seconds. I took the liberty of preparing it as you came up. Might I suggest its activation?"

Tony took a step back, staring ahead. "Yup, bring it up."

The walls behind Tony whirred and he distantly registered the suit assembling around him, but his eyes were transfixed by the surreal sight in front of him.

The landing pad was a storming cloud of darkness, seemingly absorbing all light around it. The swirling mass of shadows was confined to the landing pad, and shrinking in size.

As the tendrils retreated, Tony was able to make out two human shapes. One was lying down, apparently unconscious; the other was leaning over him.

The shadows finally disappeared completely, revealing a little girl with stunningly long blond hair, strands falling over her face as she crouched over the body. She looked innocent enough, causing Tony to lower his guard for a second as he blinked at the strange apparition.

Then he noticed the person at her feet.

His face was now visible, and perfectly recognizable although coated in a fair amount of blood, and wearing a muzzle.

It was Loki.

Tony instantly raised his repulsors, aimed at the odd couple without a second thought.

He didn't know what Loki was doing here, but there was no way he was letting him leave. Not that the Trickster looked fit to up and run right now.

If he had any doubts about shooting a (slightly creepy) little girl, they evaporated as she turned her head fully towards him.

Her face was the stuff of nightmares. The left half was perfectly healthy, with pale skin and rosy cheeks, icy blue eyes and pink lips.

The second half was dead. The luscious blond locks turned a dirty black, covering most of her face. But Tony could see grey skin and, more importantly, bones. And he could've sworn her second eye was red.

Whatever he was about to say died in his throat.

Being Tony Stark though, he recovered quickly and cried out:

"Whoever you are, you're under arrest!"

_I've always wanted to say that. Though maybe not to a little girl, but hey._

He was damned if Fury got to capture Loki this time. It had become somewhat personal. After all, it had taken him months to rebuild his baby tower after that freaking invasion.

The girl finally opened her mouth, but Tony wasn't expecting her next words.

"Help him."

"I'm sorry, what."

Not his best line, but given the situation, he would count it as an okay reaction.

"You are Anthony Stark, are you not?"

"Oh, so we're doing introductions now? Then who the hell are you, and what are you and Rudolf doing on my roof?"

The girl stood up, and Tony noticed the contrast extended to her clothes: one half of her gown was a simple white dress, the other a torn cape of grime. She held up her head, exhibiting a surprising amount of authority for her size. And there was something else…something that gave Tony chills each time he looked at her.

"Time is of the essence. And I have but minutes left in this world before my realm calls me back." She bowed. "You humans know me as Hel. And as the queen of the dead, I ask now for your help."

Tony felt his eyes widen.

"Okaaay…Uhm. Right. So, why do you need my help? And seriously, 'the' Hell? Also, why should I help you? I could still have the Avengers here in no time. That guy threw me out of a window! That window, actually" he said, pointing accusatorily.

Hel turned her head back to Loki's still form.

"Questions can wait. I am asking a service not from an Avenger, but from Anthony Stark. You have brought me many souls in the past, and I have thus come to know your story and trust your judgement. Like all gods, I can be bound by oath and debt. If you help my father, I will owe you such a debt. Are those terms agreeable to you? The particularities can be discussed with him when he regains consciousness. You should also consider that, should you presently refuse, I will take great pleasure in plotting your imminent and painful death."

She smiled thinly. "Just kidding. Like I said, I trust you to make the right choice."

A shiver ran down Tony's spine. Creepy indeed. And did she just say 'father'?

He saved the thought for later and considered her words, taking a minute to process all that.

A debt from the goddess of Death, in exchange for taking in the god of Mischief and war criminal on the run?

Well, at least his life had just become significantly less boring.

He looked at Loki's still form, taking in the ruined clothes as well as the alarming quantity of blood.

And he was still wearing the muzzle and manacles from the invasion.

Now that he looked closely, Loki seemed to have been through seven kinds of Hell.

Which was strange, because Tony was pretty sure Thor wouldn't have let too much harm happen to his little brother. His eyes narrowed, gears slowly clicking into place.

Curiosity had always been his worse defect (_No, Tony, don't touch that wire_), and his best quality. After his irresistible charm, of course.

When he spoke, it was with a confidence he wasn't 100% sure he really felt.

"Done. I'll take in Rudolf. Just promise me he won't kill me on sight. And I'd like some answers about that magic mojo of his answered. We're a bit low on sources here."


	2. Chapter 2

There was no way he was passing up the opportunity to learn more about magic. Thor said that it was the equivalent of Asgardian science, but when questioned his answers were sketchy at best. Tony needed a real sorcerer on hand to quench his thirst for knowledge. If it came with a bag of psychotic nazi cat warriors, he could deal with that. 

Hel smiled with a warmth He would not have her capable of. Her eyes, now both visible, crinkled at the corners.  
Tony suddenly found her face much less horrifying. It was actually quite fascinating up close, and her grin was contagious. Tony decided then and there that he actually liked the kid.  
She was a curious mix of childish energy and timeless wisdom.

When she held out her dead hand, he shook it without hesitation. Two sets of identical runes flared briefly on the inside of their wrists as she spoke.  
"By the branches of the Yggdrasil, may we be bound by oath to each honour our part of the deal. I trust my father in your care, and wish I could do more to help him, but my powers here have a time limit. When he wakes up…tell him I will come visit him as soon as my powers permit it."

She had barely finished her sentence that shadows started to gather around her small form, swallowing her in. She was gone with a parting smile, this time tainted with a sadness that looked out of place on a face so young.

As soon as she was gone, Tony gingerly knelt next to the Trickster, taking of a gauntlet to feel for a pulse. It was sluggish, but present.

_Ok, let's do this. Whatever 'this' is. Oh, who am I kidding, I have no idea what I'm doing.  
_

__He was glad to be wearing the suit as he picked the would-be conqueror up, careful not to jostle him, still wondering what the hell (ha!) he was doing. Oh, and look at that, Gods were definitely heavier than humans. Good to know it wasn't just Thor. They hadn't exactly had other examples on hand to experiment on.

That's when noticed the blood still seeping through what remained of Loki's clothes.  
"JARVIS…I think I just made a deal with the devil. Prep the med by for me, will ya?", quipped the inventor, making his way inside.

He laid out the Trickster on the hospital bed and activated his bracelets to disassemble the suit. He had just installed that function; the pieces retracted one by one as a panel on the wall slid open.

"JARVIS, scan for injuries. I want to know everything that happened to him."

He was no doctor, but being an Avenger, they had all received obligatory crash courses for noobs on how to treat different injuries, and there was just no way he was calling a real doctor.  
"Scanning, Sir."  
"Excellent, show me when you're done."  
The inventor started by fetching warm water and a sponge to clean the wounds, and set out to work. He had just dabbed at a few cuts when JARVIS spoke up.

"Scan complete. Full physical recovery should take approximately four weeks, by Aesir standards." A map of Loki's body sprung up next to Tony, and he instantly felt sick. 

Gashes and bruises, old and new, covered almost every part of him. The worst areas were his wrists, his mouth, his throat and his left leg, which appeared to be broken in at least three places. He also had several broken ribs, and his stomach area had been hit frequently, judging by the scan. Loki was also suffering from severe malnutrition and dehydration, as he could witness just by looking at him. The Trickster had obviously been starved.

Tony's eyes darkened as he realized the implications of what he was seeing.  
One thing is to imprison him in some dungeon for a few years, but this…  
_I'll never be okay with this. _He thought, staring at his enemy_. Nobody deserves that.  
And Thor would never have agreed to torture. Impossible.  
_Could this have been done without Point Break's knowledge? Tony doubted it. Thor was a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, but certainly not that gullible.

"Sir, I suggest you remove the bindings as soon as possible, as the areas seems to be developing an infection."  
"On it."  
Tony debated a moment, then went to fetch his handheld laser cutter.  
Starting with the manacles, he slowly and carefully cut them open, revealing the ruined flesh beneath, and confirming his suspicions that the bindings hadn't been taken off since he'd last seen Loki, about a year ago.  
He cleaned the skin as carefully as possible before binding it in clean bandages.

Next, he leaned above Loki's face to activate the mechanism behind the muzzle in order to open it. The switch was built so as to be impossible to activate without both hands, and certainly not with manacles on. Tony had been quite proud of it at the time.  
Now, not so much.

As he took off the metal band -_a now foreign weight in his hands_-, he immediately realized that, unlike the manacles, this one had been taken off before.

_Otherwise, how would they have sewn Loki's mouth shut?_

Tony stood stock still.  
His breath hitched, and he was hit with a wave of nausea. The muzzle slipped from his hands, forgotten, and fell to the floor with a clang.  
He felt his knees grow weak, but couldn't tear his eyes away.  
He plastered a bloodied, trembling, hand to his mouth.

_Son of a bitch…  
_

Loki had evidently tried opening his mouth under the muzzle because the black strings tore open his lips in several places. The holes had taken an unhealthy red tinge.  
JARVIS was right, he had to work fast to prevent the infection from spreading.  
Forcing his hands to be steady, Tony reached to the god's mouth with the smallest scissors he could find.

Loki chose that moment to open his eyes.


End file.
